Chiaroscuro
by SeungSeiRan
Summary: Black, white and everything in between. Reno x Tifa x Cloud.
1. Wonderland

**Set to LiveJournal's 50 prompts for the 3_way challenge.**

**Disclaimer:** **Final Fantasy VII and its characters are property of Square Enix. **

* * *

**1. Wonderland**

Seems to me that men have a little ego problem when it comes to asking for help.

You get the ones who crawl into their dark cramped corners and brood over whatever's bothering them until they wither from lack of sunshine. Don't bother inquiring what the problem with them is or they'll freeze your beating heart with a stone-faced glare. Then you learn your lesson and have to watch them shrivel up like dried fruits. No matter how hard you try to get what's going on through their impossibly thick skulls, you fail because _he just won't let you in_.

That's Cloud for you.

Then, you also get the ones who are the exact opposite. The popular ones with their sneaky grins and flashy swaggers. They'll poke and nudge you to the point of complete and utter infuriation where you clench your teeth and dig your nails into your palms until they sear your skin with the pain. These guys will never, not even when they're pissed and drowning their sorrows in cheap booze, _ever _tell you that it's not you that's bothering them. That's right, be a big boy and _don't cry_.

That's Reno for you.

So we girls do what we do best. Pout a bit, sulk, and whine, release everything you got in a flood of tears before moving on and trying to fix them up again. Because we never learn, don't we? It's the modern life… it's spoilt us. We're not supposed to be the princesses locked up in towers waiting for the right prince to come along. We've gotta be strong, tough, devoted mothers, faithful wives, modest paragons of virtue with halos encircling our heads. It's not enough to shoulder our own problems, we've gotta make room for those of fathers, sons, brothers and lovers. We're not supposed to be human; we're supposed to be _women_.

And that's what they call me.

Aren't I the best substitute for a mother for your daughter, Barret?

Aren't I a 'damn fine' fighter, Cid? Even for a woman?

Am I not a case to be pitied, Vincent? You, out of everyone, should know best.

Reno, aren't I everything you secretly _want _in a lover? What about those battles of yesteryear where we clashed in a flurry of limbs and suppressed rage like two enemies dueling? What about yesterday night when we did the same between my sheets? Tell me that that was only a sweet nightmare.

Cloud, could I have been everything you _needed_ in a companion? Remember how you used to think of me during those far-off days where the worst wounds inflicted on us were scraped knees on the playground? Remember that I thought of you when you were lost in those hellish memories of another? Tell me that this isn't reality.

The things I do because of my heart. The girl in me may have died but her heart still beats for me to hear and obey. I am hers to command,

She tells to me enjoy the warmth, though it may be as platonic and fleeting as the 'love' we share, as I lie in his arms and forget that I am supposed to be one of the 'good guys'. Let alone to sleep with the 'enemy'.

Isn't that right, Reno?

She tells me that it's alright to stand out by the door and wait for him to come home. As if I am no better than a puppy looking out for her master. But she promises me that he'll come 'round and remember that we share some of the same scars.

Isn't that the truth, Cloud?

If course, there are times when reality hits me and I revert to being the stable Tifa that everyone knows they can rely on. Brief periods of stability where I know that neither loves my flaws as much as I love to soothe theirs. I pour soothing balm over their open wounds, they leak acid rain over mine so that my skin singes with every touch. So thus, I return to my wonderland where meaning ceases to exist and I can just lie back and let them cast their illusions as they please. Cloud's my hero in black armor, Reno's my secret in the shadows. Only when I wake do I see their true colors. Nothing monochrome, all I perceive are shades of grey.

So, I shut my eyes and lay down to rest…


	2. Adore

**2. Adore**

Attraction comes easy. It's love that hits you hard like a sucker punch. That's all I can say. I mean, I've never been good at distinguishing between the two. And I'm telling you, Teefs, neither of them feels that great. Take a girl like you for instance. Nice hair, great chest, long legs, what's not for a guy to like? The camera adores ya, you could've been a model if you'd left that little shanty town earlier. Yeah, you could've made it big under the spotlight and in those magazines that chicks like to read. You know, they would've wanted to _be_ you and those messed up twelve year old boys out on the street would've wanted _you_.

It's a natural instinct, Tifa. Men adore you, why'd you think they drop by here so often? It ain't 'cause of the ambience…

I'm telling you that you've got what it takes and you still won't listen. Did Blondie have something to do with it? Pah, what would he know? Being cramped up inside those SOLDIER headquarters with hundreds of other men kinda turns you all funny. I wouldn't be surprised if the guy couldn't see 'straight' if you get what I mean. Maybe that explains why he was so hung up when Fair went and got himself knocked off near Midgar… oof! Okay, okay, I'll shut up.

Heh, you're cute even when you're mad. Just ask Rude. Ever wondered why he never laid a hand on you in battles?

Oh, playing oblivious now, aren't we?

Give it up, Tifa. I know that you know that. It's hard not to fall for ya, what with your eyes, nose, hair and smile when you're not scowling whenever I enter the room. In fact, I even heard the new recruits talking about you. They asked me if I knew the pretty bartender at Seventh Heaven. I told them that she and I had… mutual friends. Think they actually believed it… should've seen the scowls on their faces, Tifa.

No, I didn't tell them that we shared a bed. That would be telling a lie and you know that Reno would never… uh, ignore that.

Wouldn't that be something though? You and me as a couple? Imagine the look on Strife's face when he finds out. You'd probably have a decent chance of getting him back from the Cetra if he were to see you happy with someone like me. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have him running back to you after all these years, just like those good ol' days in Nibelheim where you were the princess everyone wanted to rescue. 'Course, I know better. You can take care of yourself without having some scrawny country kid fawning over you like a lovesick puppy. You're one of a kind, Tifa. You don't need anyone to save you…

No, it's only this damn cheap whiskey. I'm _not _coughing because I'm sick. Turks never take sick leave anyway. I couldn't even if I wanted to. They got me chained and bound to Shinra like a dog on a leash. No need to feel sorry, thanks. It's a living.

Okay… take the drink back… I've had enough for tonight…

So when's Strife coming back? I thought he wouldn't be back until next month, not tomorrow. Must've learnt a lesson from the last time he left a woman and kids alone at home. You never know what they'd let in. You got stray kittens, puppies, baby birds with broken wings, couple of street kids here, some homeless mice there and a guy with red hair carrying a stick which shocks people into submission. Not exactly the perfect house-guests. At least that's what he thinks of me. Not that I care. Just as long as the woman in question doesn't feel as alone as she is.

Yeah, Tifa, I know. It's not right. He needs you, he depends on you, the kids need you, yada yada. And you'd never cheat on a man you're barely even seeing much less married to. Excuse the sarcasm.

Wonder why you let me hang here in the first place. Because I happen to be armed and have a penis? Yeah, keeps the drunks from making a move on ya, I'd say. Too bad for me, I'm not getting any action anytime soon. Oh well, guess there's always the girl down the street. You know that one with the blonde curls and blue eyes? She never asks me why I'm with her instead of you but I bet she's just as confused as I am.

Too bad I know the answer.

I just adore you too much to see you suffer. A one-night stand would hurt me more than it'd hurt you or him. Don't you get it? It's not me that wants you for _you_, it's me that wants you to be happy no matter what. It's _you_ that makes me want to save you from the pain I could give you and it's _you _that makes me believe that you'd be better off with him… when he comes around and stops sleeping with ghosts.

It's _you _that I'd kill for.

It's _you_ that I'd live for.

It's _you_ that I'd sacrifice my wrongs for.

Because nobody in their right mind can help but adore you, Tifa. _Nobody_…


	3. Reason

**3. Reason**

In a distant bar, miles away from the one he'd left behind, a man with blue eyes contemplated the drink before him. "On the house." the red-haired barmaid had said as she winked at him. He'd always had a weakness for pretty green eyes anyway as he watched her pour out several pints, clicking her heels and smiling to herself. Downing his thoughts, he finished the glass in two gulps.

Scorching. With a bitter aftertaste.

He raised his hand for another.

His new poison. The nights spent on the musty floorboards hadn't helped to ease his discomfort. The dreams hadn't ceased, the guilt hadn't yet dried up. Tifa had new friends to keep her company and he didn't care for red hair. Before he'd left, he'd warned her to never trust green eyes. They'd always turn away from you in the end. She should know better than to not pay his words any heed…

The second glass didn't go down quite as fast as the other. Perhaps alcohol wasn't his cure.

He sipped tentatively, keeping his eyes fixed on the dingy mirror a few feet to the right. It hadn't been cleaned in years so it was alright for him to look at it if he couldn't see his own reflection, let alone those of others.

_What if he stood up and flung the chair at it?_

Just a thought. Thoughts hurt less than actions.

This time, he forced himself to swallow it down, cold and foul. Useless stuff, it did nothing to bring down the words burning a hole through his skull. Made him wonder what in the name of Shiva was he doing here. Ah yes, of course, he needed a vacation, a break from everyone because there was only so much clamoring he could take. This was why he'd dragged himself out to the middle of nowhere…

He had too many thoughts to get through.

Wincing at his lack of productivity, he stood and slapped down a few gil on the table. A pair of green eyes looked up in surprise.

"Leaving already?"

"I have my reasons."

Then…

"Thanks for the hospitality."

He hoped that Tifa hadn't let Reno finish that casket of Gongagan thistle wine. You could never trust green eyes.

Ever.


	4. Rainbow

**4. Rainbow**

One more memory had broken her heart and he'd done his best to care. But she couldn't blame Cloud anymore. It had been terrible as sin to watch two of the closest people that had ever latched on to his heart die before his very eyes. Now that the deeds were done, the pasts had yet to be buried. Cloud would never smile for her again and Tifa had forgotten what puppy love could feel like.

So she'd run away out into the rain where no one could see her cry.

She'd run until her legs had trembled from the weight she buckled under. The running had slowed to a drugged walk, a few steps at a time, swaying in time with the thunder. A heated ache had begun its ascent to her temple, setting her cold skin alight with its sickness.

He'd heard her sing as he'd brushed the dripping red strands of hair from his face. It had been an unfamiliar tune, possibly from her childhood days in the mountains.

Those had been days when _she'd_ been a flower-girl with daisies in her hair and the sun in her eyes. Cloud had lived up to his namesake and done just that to her glow. Her maiden name was Lockheart but she'd given him her key. What a careless little boy to lose it so soon. No better than sailors who pledge their love to one in their hometowns and to another at the next port. Reno should've trampled as many flowers as he could have when he'd gone to check on the Cetra girl. Served her right for stealing Tifa's light…

Across the street, a pale figure succumbed to the fire burning inside her.

~*~

She'd lost weight, he noted as he hefted her up against him.

Something told him that it wasn't because of that new-fangled diet that Elena had been talking about.

He wasn't carrying an umbrella or else he would've used. On the other hand, well _two _hands in this case, he was carrying _her _so that would have been humanly impossible anyway. She opened her red-rimmed eyes for a moment and inquired, "Aerith?..."

"What about her?"

"Is she alright? You stopped him… didn't you?"

"Yeah… yeah, we did."

"… Sure?" she whispered, straining to see.

"Sure. We took her outside. Rest is classified. Rufus' orders."

"That's… good. Cloud would have been so sad if anything had happened to her…"

She'd drifted off again.

Fortunately for Reno, telling the truth had never come easy.

~*~

Strife seemed appropriately concerned. Wasn't like Tifa to just up and leave like that. _That_, Reno concluded, was supposed to be _Spikey's _specialty. So much for mako-infused genetic exaggerations. Too bad it didn't work wonders on courage and reliability.

The kids seemed upset to see her so broken down. She was their statue of hope, a mother they could all lean on. She couldn't just fall down and hurt herself because she just wasn't supposed to do things like that. Tifa was asleep, tucked away nice and safe in her dreams of sunshine, flowers and men who actually kept their promises.

Delusional. But it sure beat reality.

"You guys watch out for the rainbow. There's always one after every storm."

False words of comfort he never meant.

But truth was an overrated fact anyway.


	5. Love

**5. Love**

A year ago, there had been one sole photo on her bedside table. It was encased in a black wooden frame and wasn't completely extraordinary. Muted tones of black, white, sepia and a flash of his golden hair in the mid-morning sun. He was younger, his muscles less toned and his manner much brasher than she could ever remember. She would look at that picture with resigned fondness, marveling at how battles changed a boy into a hero.

The next year, she'd placed another picture next to it. Another portrait in monochrome, this time a splash of red interrupting the tone. Green eyes gleaming slyly under the violet-hued sky at twilight. He hadn't been one for posing stiffly so she'd decided to catch him as he'd liked. Off-guard. Tit for tat.

Tonight, under a calm starless sky, she placed a third in between them. This one was no less brighter than its predecessors save for the gold and scarlet almost edging the frame. Unlike the others, this one had been more difficult to set given how much they'd despised the idea of sharing something so precious together. Right in the middle, she stood firm and smiling, her hands linked with theirs.

A drab scene, if anything.

But with love to color it, she couldn't possibly want for anything more.


	6. Wire

**6. Wire**

"You need an older girlfriend to take care of you."

Cloud had been fifteen then so it was only natural that he'd take his mother's advice with a grain of salt. In other words, he was sure he'd prove her wrong. Now that he was heading off to become a hero, he wouldn't need to be 'taken care of'. For once, he'd be the one who would _take care of_. He'd work hard to prove her and everyone else wrong. In that moment, he'd give anything to jump out of his skin and into the future where certain glory awaited him.

He pictured his mother's eyes brimming with tears of pride.

Their neighbors gaping in disbelief…

Tifa's shy smile as he greeted her with a brief nod…

A hero's journey would begin here, from the most humble of origins. His father had disappeared before he could even remember, leaving him and his mother with little more than the crumbling roof over their heads. He was born with a temperament too weak for his ambition and his eyes didn't shine like those of his peers so thus they hadn't assumed much else. After all, Cloud Strife was the very definition of unassuming.

Never mind them. He just wished that _she _could've seen what he thought was there. Unlike the others, Tifa had never been cruel to the pale skinny lad who'd shown up like a weed in the garden once upon a springtime. But then again… what more _could _she see? He was terrible at enunciation. Among other forms of articulation.

It had been easier to write her a note asking if they could meet at the old well, rather than stuttering out the same in spoken words. On a starry night in Nibelheim, he'd waited for her to come, shivering with anticipation at the thought of close contact. Nothing of _that _sort transpired eventually but she'd left him trembling in her wake. He'd promised her his undying loyalty, as all soldiers often do to their sweethearts. She'd given him something to achieve, something to strive for. He definitely wouldn't let her down. How could he ever have the heart to let her down?

He realized that he was still trembling as he lay in bed thinking about it. Something else had trickled into his flow of thought as well…

Self-doubt.

What if he couldn't?

And without Tifa, what would he live for? Glancing in the mirror opposite him, he saw his mother. If he wasn't careful, he would grow into the same desolation that she wore over her hunched shoulders. Unnecessary weight, as he saw it. His mother wasn't willing to let go but he had already severed the apron strings. The only bond between them now was maternal. She'd borne him into this world after all and she definitely wasn't about to let her son forget that. A spoonful of sympathy on her part would have worked wonders for his empathy for her. Too late for that…

* * *

"I'm not fit to help anyone."

Tifa hated hearing those words. Of course, he was more than fit enough. Hadn't they both got through the worst that life could throw at them? Now wasn't the time for self-pity. Not even she could afford that luxury and yet she'd let him rob her clean of her selfishness.

She'd scolded, begged, pleaded, threatened and lectured her way through to him just a few steps short of dealing him a blow to break him free of his self-imposed guilt. Here he was, feeling sorry for himself when it was all she could do to keep herself from slipping into the same void. As always, she kept the sharper edge out of her words. Cloud was far too close to the breaking point. Perilously close. He was back to being the timid creature whom everyone used to pick on.

Breathless from the previous verbal assault, she realized that she was out of ammunition. Her words were never aimed to hurt. That was why they were often useless to him. What he needed was the truth, the uncomfortable truth which he refused to admit. The lie was that they would both move on from their pasts and that the future was all bright and smiley. They were almost like rabbits running after the carrot suspended before them. In more contrite words, _this was a bad joke._

If it weren't for the current crisis, she would have laughed in his face at the irony. Here he was, the hero who was supposed to have saved _her _once upon a time. And who was exactly doing the saving now? No, she wouldn't call it coddling. Far from that, he _wanted _to be wrapped up in a blanket and soothed to sleep. Not that she was any closer to obliging him. He'd never been around when she'd needed to be comforted. He'd never had to be the one on the sidelines watching the world prosper without him. Cloud had always been in the center of destruction whether it was in his imaginary days at SOLDIER or during the time spent dodging ShinRa forces.

He'd only needed her when Aerith wasn't around anymore. Second-place substitute Tifa Lockhart. She'd never held a grudge against the older girl. Unlike what he thought, she'd never considered herself the spiteful type. Then again, what kind of woman wouldn't feel envious at the idea of being replaced?

If only Cloud knew just _how much _venom she could spew if she was as selfish as he was. But it would probably hurt her more than him in the end so she bit her tongue and kept it sheathed. She could empathize all she wanted for the turmoil he was going through until they could both wallow in the same pool of misery. She could be heartless and run away from his issues just like he'd tried to do earlier. She could be a pushover just like before and let him walk over her again.

But not this time.

* * *

"You think we're strange, don't you?"

She'd stolen the words right from his mouth. For the life of him, Reno couldn't imagine how the woman ever put up with Cloud's frequent breakdowns without writing the guy a foot-long bill of overdue sympathy. Without Strife (appropriately named) in the equation, the result may have been easier to come up with. The kids wouldn't have to worry so much and Tifa would probably have better reasons to sigh.

The girl was walking a thread-thin wire between insanity and outright depression. Let it out or lock it up, Teefs, he'd offered. As far as he could see, she was still conflicted. He'd even asked her permission to deal her former knight in shining armor a hard blow to his skull if that was it was gonna take to bring him to his senses. However, certain forces had already beaten him to it making him wonder if all he'd do was scramble the blond's brains further.

The wire was trembling. He could feel it sway in the calm night air.

She had her hands folded behind her back as she waited for her hero to come along. Old habits died hard, Reno guessed. She'd never stopped hoping for the best, no matter how hard it stung when the opposite turned out to be true. It had been a couple days, almost a week, since they'd last argued about Cloud. Since she refused his attempts at eye-contact, it seemed like she was still sore from it.

Midgar was cold, so damn cold if you weren't used to it. He'd been born to this twisted heap of concrete and metal so he'd had plenty of time to acclimatize. She, on the other hand, still carried the smell of mountain air and spring flowers on her. He hated it. It was a habit for him, hating what he wasn't used to. The outdoors didn't suit a man who preferred the dead chill of a weapon in his hand. Perhaps he'd make an exception for her since she served him free booze when he _really _felt like shit. He couldn't hate a woman who could sympathize as well as she could.

If there was one thing that Turks and SOLDIERs had in common, it was the very thing that marked them as cowards. They couldn't kill bare-handed. They needed the security that only cold hard metal ensure. A swipe of a blade or a pull of a trigger later and the danger was eliminated. Wretches… all of them… at least this woman dealt punishment with her bare hands. Which was more than what he could say for their man in the upper echelons of ShinRa…

Tifa was shivering. It can't have been from the cold because she was wearing a jacket. Must be the damn wire swaying. There was only so much weight that it could take at once. Reno reached out with a sinewy lanky arm and steadied her. That would do for now.


	7. Burning

**7. Burning**

The words were burning a hole in his stomach as the feeling welled up within him. Cloud was warm, feverish and huddled under a blanket next to the crisp winter log-fire Tifa had built especially for the holiday season. True, that would have been fine and dandy with him by all means _except _that the entire bar was now overrun with old and new friends who wished to spread the festive cheer. Of course, Tifa was loving every second of it so who was he to begrudge her one night of happiness? Even if he did happen to have succumbed to the wintry nuances of a common cold.

Cloud sneezed.

Near the front door, Rude was cradling a mug of warm eggnog as he watched his fellow Turk, Elena, peel off the wrapper of a candy-cane. The blonde woman's eyes glowed with childish glee when the sugary blast of flavors struck her tongue as the sweet was duly popped into her mouth. A few feet away from them, Cid was introducing his then-assistant and now-fiancé, Shera, to his old friend, Vincent.

Cloud frowned. Even the normally glum-faced, red-caped Vincent Valentine was having a better time than he was.

To make matters worse, Yuffie had managed to get hold of a stash of mistletoe sprigs. He glanced around and noted the leafy boughs hanging above doorways with growing horror. He was ill and incapacitated, making escape impossible. No doubt about it, the Wutaian girl would try to steal a kiss or two from him in his current state. And now that she had attained the legal age for alcohol consumption, he was definitely, surely, appallingly and finally doomed.

As the memory of an uncomfortable 'date' at the Golden Saucer into which he'd been hoodwinked loomed large in his mind, Cloud gulped.

There he was, that gangly red-haired abomination of nature gloating over his victory at the bar. On catching sight of his arch-nemesis wrapped up in a blanket tighter than a newborn, Reno's grin practically stretched from ear to ear. Tifa paid little heed since she was too preoccupied with pouring out more eggnog and serving the cookies she'd baked and which Marlene had frosted herself. The little girl, obviously delighted with her creations, was now displaying the one she'd made _just _for her Daddy. Barret eyed the pink icing-sprayed confection warily before taking a careful nibble.

As Reno leaned in closer to Tifa for another glass, Cloud scowled.

Of course, he wasn't jealous (it was only the medicine talking). If Tifa preferred spending the evening with Beanpole then he wouldn't complain at her choice. She never made a big deal about his mood swings so this was the least he could do… just as long as they didn't step under any mistletoe…

"Alright there, Cloud?" she asked.

He would've nodded but the coughing fit beat him to it.

When he recovered and opened his eyes, a glass of thick creamy beige froth was pressed into his hand.

"If anything, it'll at least make you _feel _better."

"Thanks, Tifa." He mumbled, feeling no less bitter.

The brush of her lips against his smooth cheek reminded him of what he was supposed to say. That is, if he could get past the instant rush of heat and sparks which lit up his cheeks as bright as the lights on the tree. Tifa gazed up at the mistletoe above them.

"Cloud, do me a favor and remind me to thank Yuffie later on."

He nodded with a rush of enthusiasm.

When he caught sight of Reno's lower jaw dangling a few inches south at his position, Cloud grinned.

_Season's Greetings, Turk._


	8. Lovely

**#8. Lovely**

Night was about to fall.

It would be a lovely night.

Cloud would be spending it with Denzel and Marlene.

It would be good for him, he assumed. After all, he did owe them a couple of hours of his time. The scene even looked pleasant enough with scores of primary-colored game pieces and bits of puzzle sceneries scattered about the carpet and a log fire glowing warmly in the backdrop. He didn't mind the mess. It could be cleared up later and it reminded him of the more pleasant aspects of childhood. Freedom, innocence… and that sort of glorious indifference to the world around you… he couldn't put a name on it.

He caught a whiff of jasmine in the air.

Tifa was wearing new pearl earrings. They went well with the white silk dress she'd bought.

"Where'd you get those?"

"They were a gift."

Before he was stupid enough to ask whom were they from, a horn bleated outside and she took off with a hasty goodbye. Outside, Cloud heard Reno's high-pitched wolf whistle of appreciation. The air around him felt stale without the jasmine.

"She looks like Cinderella, doesn't she?" Marlene commented with awe as she peered outside at the giggling couple.

Cloud noted the time on the wall clock.

Night had fallen.

It was a lovely night.

He would be spending it alone.


	9. Fairground

**#9 Fairground**

The glowing orbs of streetlamps lightened to tiny pinpricks of light. Up and up they went, careful to keep their eyes out for shooting stars. The first one to catch it gets a free wish. At the Ferris Wheel's pinnacle, her red-haired companion for the night asks her one simple question.

"What do you wish for, Tifa?"

She muses carefully, rolling out each word on her tongue. She thinks of dreams, fantasies, memories, all of which shimmer and glimmer in alternate shades of pastels and darkness. She thinks of Marlene prancing around in a makeshift wedding dress earlier in the day with Denzel hanging on to the fraying white hems for dear life, their cheeks blushed with mirth, eyes tinted with a pure evanescence. She thinks of a mop of spiked blond locks defiantly perched at the helm of a storm-grey bike, blue eyes succeeding where words had failed at the idea of losing her to another. She thinks of a faraway mountain and a delicate little promise buried deep within the winter snow.

Perhaps, one day, spring will come for both of them.

Perhaps now. Perhaps never.

She turns and gifts him a peck on the cheek.

"A Happy New Year, Reno."

She's settled for 'tonight'.

* * *

_Kinda late for New Year's, of course, but I hope you enjoyed this all the same :)_


	10. Laundromat

**#10. Laundromat**

They have this way with clothes. They always find their way around each other.

Crisp linen shirts, black leather, goggles. It's like her skin's grown its very own fetish for such articles. Smooth, warm and fresh out the dryer, this is only a test-run to check if they fit.

Cloud's fit snugger than expected, tight around her chest.

Reno's engulf her.

She can't yet decide which way she wants it.

Anyway, if she's sure of another thing, it's that work-days are blessed days. Days when Reno pops in with a smirk and muddy suit, when Cloud arrives after sundown with rain-splashed vests. She can drop the pretense of 'door-mat' before they track muck across her well-scrubbed floor and then take it up again when she forces each into peeling off their attires and sitting snug, grimly, in the fluffiest bath-robes she has lying around.

It's something she sometimes question, with a smudge of shame at her kinks.

She sniffs at the open bottle of fabric-softener and forgets.

Cloud is clean, almost earthy with the perfume of cut grass and new roses from the Church garden. Reno's shirts smell of smoke and bullets. On occasion, there is the sharp tang of blood coloring one or the other. A scraped elbow, a scratch from a wayside dog, a graze from a stray knife, they both are choosy and economic with their descriptions.

The irony of her place - the axis of their triangle - is not lost on her as she watches their clothes twine and weave about each other in the washing-machine whirlpool. She might be thankful - guiltily - for it.

In a few minutes, they are all cleansed, stripped of the day's dirt, sweat and blood.

Tifa inhales.

_Pure._


End file.
